


Adventures in Babysitting

by notdeadyet



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, all fluff everywhere, and howie is like his daddy, and natasha is a shitty babysitter, but clint's there to help out, pepper really should have thought this through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:58:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2209623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notdeadyet/pseuds/notdeadyet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha Romanoff just wanted a quiet night for herself, but when has that ever worked out? Focusing on Clintasha friendship but I wrote it as though they were in a romantic relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adventures in Babysitting

**Author's Note:**

> My first Clintasha fic! Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Natasha sat with her legs propped up on the coffee table, reading a book. It was nice in the Tower. Bruce was in his lab, Steve was out for dinner, Thor was back in Asgard, Clint was down in the gym, and Tony and Pepper were just leaving for a gala. The quiet was just how Natasha liked it – she so rarely got quiet in her line of work, and she had to soak it up while she could.  
She flipped the page in the Russian classic and reached for an M&M from the bowl beside her. Just as she bit through the chocolate, a squeal erupted from the hall, high pitched and growing louder.  
“You have got to be kidding.” Natasha groaned dramatically before putting her book down (it was just getting exciting, too). She debated whether or not to climb out the window before a little ball of energy burst into the room.  
“Auntie Tasha!” The boy barrelled towards her and hopped on her lap. “Guess what? Judie’s sick so Mummy said I have to stay here with you tonight!” Natasha whipped her head up and glared at Pepper, who was standing in the doorway looking very guilty.  
“Judith won’t take him tonight, and Tony’s had these tickets for months… Could you please do this for me? He loves you.” The “he” in question was happily eating Natasha’s M&Ms and looking at her book. “I promise, just tonight.”  
Natasha looked down at Boy Wonder and shook her head. She had a bit (a bit) of a soft spot for the little guy, when he wasn’t eating her Froot Loops by “accident” (she strongly believed Stark put him up to it, but starting a war over breakfast cereals was slightly beneath her).  
“Fine,” she sighed after some time, “but you so owe me.” Pepper grinned at her and knelt down to meet eyes with her son.  
“Howie, be good for Natasha, okay? We’ll be home later.” She kissed his head and stood up. “Thanks again, Natasha.” Natasha rolled her eyes in response and waved to Pepper’s retreating back. Howard was already bounding around the room, making Natasha sigh again. This was going to be a long night.

When Clint came upstairs an hour later, his hair dripping from the shower, he was surprised. He did not expect to see the youngest inhabitant of the Stark Tower sitting at the red haired assassin’s feet, watching her with wonder as she threw knives at the wall behind him.  
“Jesus, Nat!” Clint yelled at her. “What are you doing?” Natasha and Howard stared at him, a knife gripped in Natasha’s hand. “Don’t make him start on knives. Teach him how to get out of ropes. Hell of a lot safer for a beginner.”  
Within seconds, Clint was on the floor beside them, tying Natasha’s hands behind her back. “This, Howie,” Clint said through gritted teeth as he pulled the knot tighter, “is a valuable skill.”  
“Uncle Clint, are you hurting Auntie Tasha?” Howard asked, noticing Natasha’s knit eyebrows. Clint laughed.  
“Of course not! Tasha is just-…” With one quick movement, Natasha freed her hands and held up the rope. Howard’s eyes were as big as saucers.  
“Can I try?” He asked eagerly, holding out his hands. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Clint before trying Howard’s hands in a loose knot.  
“So, what you want to do…”  
When Bruce was coming up for a mug of tea, he heard angry grunting. As far as he knew, only Natasha and Clint were home, and neither of them grunted in the living room. Carefully, he turned the corner and looked in the room. He almost dropped his mug of tea in shock.  
“Why can Auntie Tasha… do it… so easily?” Little Howard Stark was concentrating on his hands where they were tied together. Natasha sat across from him, demonstrating.  
“That’s because Tasha has had a lot of practice.” Clint explained, munching on M&Ms. “Do what she does, and when you get out, we can get ice cream and Nat will bring out her knives.”  
This sounded like child abuse to Bruce, but he was watching two master assassins babysit a Stark. If anyone was going to teach a kid how to play with knives, it would be them. Clint looked up and winked at him before turning back to Howard.  
“Just turn your wrist like this…” Natasha said, demonstrating. The boy’s meaty fist copied shakily, but nonetheless effectively. “Now pull.” With a swift motion, Natasha snapped her wrists out, and the rope fell to the floor. Howard’s face was scrunched up and red in determination before…  
“I DID IT!” The kid jumped in the air then landed on Natasha’s lap. “Did you see me, Auntie Tasha?” Bruce never would have imagined Natasha to smile at the kid, let alone hold out her hand for a high-five. Howard slapped it happily before standing up and grabbing her and Clint’s hands. “Come on, I want ice cream!” Bruce shook his head and went back down to the lab before the kid saw him. He smiled as he heard Clint ask “Chocolate or vanilla?”

Natasha set down a bowl of vanilla ice cream in front of the kid and started to scoop some for herself.  
“Auntie Tasha?” Howard asked, “Can I watch you throw knives again?” Natasha raised an eyebrow at the kid.  
“Course. In fact…” she grabbed a couple butter knives from the drawer, “I’ll teach you how.” That got him eating faster.  
Clint was painting a bulls-eye on the wall of the living room while Natasha taught Howard how to hold a knife.  
“You don’t want to hold it too tightly, or it won’t go straight, or too loose, because you might drop it. Barton!” She shouted at her other half, “Are you about done?”  
Clint turned his head and looked at her “Yes, dear, your patience is out-…” a flash of silver passed in face and embedded itself into the wall, directly in the centre. “Nat!” he grumbled, pulling the knife from the wall. “You could’ve sliced me!”  
“Oh, honey, I wouldn’t dare ruin that pretty face.” She flashed him a smirk before passing a (butter)knife to Howard. “Alright, kid, let’s see what you got.”  
Steve shrugged his jacket off before closing the door behind him. The date had gone well, to his surprise. He was about to head to bed when he heard Clint down the hall whine “Naaaaaaaat.”  
When he looked in the room, he didn’t know whether it was safer to interrupt or leave them be. There were a handful of knives stuck in Pepper’s newly built wall, directly in the middle of a roughly painted bulls-eye. Natasha was giggling, clutching her sides with little Howard beside her, holding a butter knife and shaking with laughter. “That hurt.” Clint was rubbing his arm where a large red spot was slowly becoming a bruise. “You’re not setting a very good example.”  
“Now, Howard, when someone is trying to flick paint on you, the best thing to do is throw a knife at them.” Natasha said seriously when she calmed down. “Your turn.”  
“But Uncle Clint wasn’t flicking paint on me.” Howard said through giggles.  
“Well, you can hit him for me. Besides, Clint has it coming.” Clint glared at her half-heartedly, still holding his arm. Natasha and Clint were teaching a three year old child how to throw knives. But, Steve supposed, both of them would consider that a very good life skill. He watched with amusement as Howard concentrated hard, holding his knife in a similar way as Steve had seen Natasha do. With as much power as a little boy could muster, he chucked the knife at Clint’s already-bruising arm.  
“That’s my boy!” Natasha said happily, holding up a hand for a high-five. Clint was hissing, obviously trying to refrain from letting loose a string of profanities. Steve found it ironic that the two were perfectly alright with the boy learning violence is the answer, but that swearing was definitely not allowed.  
Howard saw Steve in the doorway and grinned at him. “Uncle Steve! Aren’t Auntie Tasha and Uncle Clint the best? They gave me ice cream and taught me how to get out of knots and throw knives!” the boy ran up to him and whispered “Don’t tell Auntie Tasha, but Uncle Clint is better at hitting the middle. I measured.” He explained, pointing at the bulls-eye. He must have gone down to the millimetre, because Steve thought that the knives were basically on top of each other.  
Behind Howard, Steve watched Clint throw a paintbrush at Natasha, getting red spots in her already red hair. She glowered at him and pounced, and suddenly, they were fighting – rolling and twisting and punching. Steve pointed at them.  
“Who do you think’s going to win, Howie?” The boy watched for a second, then replied,  
“Auntie Tasha. Uncle Clint doesn’t like to hurt her.” Steve raised his eyebrows at the boy’s predictions and watched the assassins. Howard was right, Steve realized. He was definitely a genius, just like Tony. And when Natasha pinned Clint down with a menacing smile, Howard laughed. “Told you!” He told Steve triumphantly before rushing towards his babysitters. Steve rolled his eyes and turned to leave. He glanced back for a second, and saw Howard sitting on Natasha’s belly and Clint teaching him how to pin her down. When Howard turned back to wave at Steve, he almost missed the quick kiss Clint placed on Natasha’s forehead.

When Pepper and Tony came home around one thirty am, Tony went straight to bed. Pepper found a strange lack of Howard on their floor and headed downstairs to search.  
The living room looked like a battlefield. Someone had spilled M&Ms everywhere and paint splattered the floor, but that was by far not the most disturbing part. On the walls she had just had rebuilt and painted, there was a crude bulls-eye and so, so many holes, some unnervingly filled with sharp knives. Her son was lying on the couch, looking content in sleep and amazingly unharmed. At the other end of the sofa, her temporary (now never-to-be-hired-again) babysitter and her partner in crime (literally) were curled together, painted handprints on both of them and Clint holding Natasha tightly and carefully, lip prints on some on the splatters of paint on her face.  
“Mummy?” Howard yawned, his eyes opening slightly.  
“Howie!” Pepper rushed over and picked him up, keen to keep him away from the two master assassins.  
“Auntie Tasha and Uncle Clint are the best.” He yawned again. “Can they be my babysitters forever?”  
Pepper glanced up at the pair. Clint moved slightly and pulled Natasha closer and she sighed in content.  
“Probably not.”


End file.
